


Kama Tatamana

by Witch_Nova221



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Be Careful What You Wish For, Djinni & Genies, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mantis Menagerie Fic Exchange, Romance, Wish Fulfillment, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_Nova221/pseuds/Witch_Nova221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Belle inadvertently makes a wish when cleaning an old oil lamp, she is forced to face the consequences of her ill chosen words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kama Tatamana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizandletdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandletdie/gifts).



> Well this is my submission for the Mantis May Day Menagerie Fic Exchange and I was lucky enough to be able to write for the wonderful Standbyyourmantis/Lizandletdie. Her wonderful prompt was 'Okay, so my creature was a Djinn. Smut optional, and I don’t care who or what IS the Djinn, but I want to see one of them make an accidental wish and get stuck with the consequences. So hopefully that lends itself well to smut or comedy or angst or fluff or romance or whatever you like to write! I’ll read anything as long as there are no major character deaths so go nuts.'
> 
> I hope you enjoy it my lovely, I've had a wonderful time writing it for you.

“Insufferable…bloody…pig-headed…grumpy…old…beast…of…a…man!”

 

Belle punctuated each word with a solid swipe of the carpet beater against the Agrabahn rug strung up on the washing line. Her master had returned from a weeklong trip the evening before but, as usual, had spoken little of his time away. Belle had been glad to see him though, their relationship having become a friendship over the months she had lived with him at the castle. She would not have believed when she had first arrived that she would come to care for the sorcerer, but it was something she could not deny; even when he was being an insufferable, bloody, pig-headed, grumpy old beast of a man.

 

The morning at the castle had dawned as many others. Belle had risen first, washed, dressed, and headed out to the well to fetch water. She had returned to the kitchen and set about fixing a tray for her master. Breakfast was never a hurried affair for the imp when he had nowhere to be. She had headed up to his room, balancing the tea tray carefully as she climbed the stairs. She pushed open the heavy door with her hip, glad he had taken to leaving it unlocked to allow her access without the need to wake him. The room was dark, and she took extra care as she navigated her way across the room. She set the tray down on the table by the fire before lighting the candles that filled the room, a groan from the bed letting her know that her master had woken.

 

She hadn’t had a chance to greet him as she normally did, the candles she lit illuminating the far end of the room and the vast pile of jewels, rugs, and bric-a-brac that covered the floor from the window to the bed reached almost to the ceiling. Instead, she had cried out in surprise at the sight of it, most of the collection spilling sand all over the floor she had painstakingly mopped the day before. Rumple had moaned about her making shrill  noises too early in the morning and had banished her with the new rugs to the garden to clean them, a promise following her that she would be required to sort through and tidy the rest of the pile when she was done.

 

Belle gave the rug one final hard whack with the carpet beater before she stopped to catch her breath, glad it wasn’t too warm outside as she worked. Her vehemence at least had the carpet clean; the other three she had seen to beforehand hanging above little piles of sand that she had knocked out of them. She wondered whether Rumple had deliberately dragged them through a few dunes on the way home to spite her but she pushed away the thought. Taking out her frustrations out on the rugs had cooled her ire.

 

“I didn’t bring you here to stand around day dreaming, dearie,” came the impish voice at her back.

 

She turned swiftly at the sound, seeing the object of her thoughts lounging against the wide trunk of a tree, the slight breeze ruffling his wild hair and the silk of his red shirt.

 

“If you’ve been standing there for any length of time you’ll know that I haven’t been standing around at all,” she said, biting back a smile at the sight of his smirk, “I suppose you’ve come to assign me another task.”

 

“Actually I’ve come to tell you that I must away,” he said, the flourish of his hands exaggerated and she could hear the reluctance in his words despite his bravado.

 

“So soon?” she found herself saying before she could catch herself, “You just came home.”

 

“I won’t be more than a day,” said the sorcerer, his voice losing its usual teasing pitch, “The Queen has sent for me but I have little doubt it will be a pointless venture. I may well be home by sundown.”

 

“Shall I have supper ready?” said Belle, smiling as he left his place by the tree and moved towards her, a wave of his hand sending the rugs back to the castle.

 

Rumple shook his head, “Not necessary,” he said, coming to a halt barely a foot away from her, “Remember the rules?”

 

Belle rolled her eyes. His words a familiar line since Maleficent and her band had abducted her, but she indulged the man before her. Knowing he had worried despite his arguments to the contrary.

 

“Don’t answer the door and don’t leave the castle,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers, “Don’t look in any mirrors or touch anything I can’t identify. If the castle is breeched, hide in the tower and call your name three times. Keep a non-magical weapon to hand at all times. Oh, and hide all the master’s spell books when he isn’t looking.”

 

“I don’t recall that last one, dearie.”

 

“Don’t you?” asked Belle, barely fighting her own laugh as she saw him bite back one of his own, “I swear you said it was one of the most important.”

 

“I think a certain maid is growing a little too brave and bold,” said Rumple, a black tipped finger wagging as though scolding a child, “I shall have to assign you more difficult tasks to curb that wit of yours.”

 

Belle took his hand, stilling the motion, “And who then would you have to pretend not to beat you at chess of an evening?” she asked, “Work me to the bone and I won’t have the energy for conversation.”

 

“Away to the castle with you, clever cat,” said Rumple, turning her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “I’ll return by nightfall.”

 

Belle didn’t have time to register the touch of his lips to her hand, finding herself standing in her library as the smoke that had surrounded her cleared. She shook her head, wondering if she would ever understand her master and his mercurial moods.

 

Confined to the castle until his return, she found plenty to occupy herself. She swept floors and tending the fires, moving up throughout the castle until she reached their bedchambers. She put her own to rights swiftly but she groaned as she found the pile of sand encrusted bric-a-brac still littering Rumple’s room. She looked at the collection of items, prodding one or two and finding them harmless; her time at the Dark Castle having earned her the ability to identify the difference between the magical and non-magical with relative ease.

 

She left the room and headed to one of the large storage chambers that Rumple used to store the non-magical items he collected from his deals, the pieces not grand enough to be on display but kept nonetheless. She picked up three wooden crates, hoping to make a start at least in clearing the mess so she could rescue the floor from the sand that now covered it. She soon had the worst of the mess in the crates, huffing as she dragged them back to the storeroom. She wanted to leave them there, but her time as a maid had given her a great pride in her duties and, with cloth in hand, she cleaned years of grime off the once pretty artefacts.

 

Soon many of the items were gleaming once more and she was sure some of them might be deemed worthy of the treasure cabinet in the great hall. She set aside those she thought would appeal to Rumple before neatly packing those that needed to be stored. She reached the last box, picking up the first item with a look of disgust as she realised it was covered not only in sand but also in layers of oil and grease. It looked like a battered old oil lamp and she contemplated not even bothering to clean it but she caught a glint of gold beneath the filth and couldn’t help but wonder if it would polish up nicely.

 

She went to work on it, soiling several rags before she even began to see even a hint of the metal beneath the grime. She picked up another rag but paused before she could touch it to the lamp, the main door slamming back on its hinges with a ferocity that shook the castle, heralding Rumple’s return home.

 

“Belle!”

 

His call was loud enough to echo through all the rooms, enhanced by his magic to find her ears, and she could tell by the tone that he was not in one of his better moods.

 

“Up here,” she called back as sweetly as she could, knowing her voice would carry back to him.

 

“And why the hell are you hiding away up here?” he said, barely allowing the smoke to clear from around him, “The fire has died out in the hall and there’s not a single plate of food in this damned place.”

 

“You said you didn’t want supper,” said Belle, glaring up at him from where she sat on the floor.

 

“Well, I do now, so get to it,” said Rumple with a snap of his fingers, “Don’t keep me waiting, dearie.”

 

Belle hissed through her teeth as he disappeared as swiftly as he had appeared, no doubt to go and glower at his spinning wheel as he counted the minutes it took her to fulfil his demands.

 

“Insufferable old peacock,” she muttered, settling herself a little more comfortably on the floor, “Let him wait.”

 

She picked up her cloth once more, working away at the grease stained lamp as she continued to talk to herself.

 

“Comes in here, making demands. Wish he’d make up his mind sometimes,” she said, “How am I supposed to know whether he wants supper or not when hours before he says he doesn’t?”

 

She tossed the filthy rag aside as she looked down at the lamp in her hands, seeing swirling etchings on the gold, but grease had slipped into the crevices. Abandoning the cloth, she set her nails to it instead, scraping out the grime with the point of her littlest finger until she heard her name barked through the castle.

 

“Oh for the love of the gods I wish I knew what that man was thinking sometimes,” she groaned, throwing down the lamp without a care if it dented as she got to her feet, “Coming, Your Royal Bloody Highness.”

 

She stomped out of the room, not looking back as she slammed the door shut behind her. She didn’t see the smoke rise from the opening of the lamp, nor the wild green eyes that floated in its midst. She didn’t hear the dark chuckle or the softly spoken words in the now darkened room.

 

“Kama tatamana.”

 

xxxx

 

Belle groaned and turned over in her bed once more. The evening had been a disaster and she cursed. She’d missed the usual good-humoured conversation she would normally share with her master. She had marched herself to the kitchen, throwing together a plate of day old bread and cheese before she had stomped her way to the great hall, slamming the plate in front of her waiting master. She hadn’t paused to gauge his reaction to her behaviour, storming off towards the doors. She had only paused briefly as she heard his low words but she refused to turn to him.

 

“Well I guess I deserved that.”

 

She wanted to go back to him and apologise, but his mercurial moods were sometimes too much to take. His temper was always at its worst when he had seen the queen and Belle was tired of taking the brunt of it whenever he came home.

 

Now her pride wouldn’t let her go back downstairs and she cursed as she realised that she had only succeeded in making herself miserable in want of his company. She knew he hadn’t gone to bed, the sound of his heavy door closing for the night always echoing along the corridor and he rarely transported himself there by magic.

 

Steeling herself for more of his temper, she threw off the covers and slipped from the bed, pulling on her robe and slippers, before she headed to the door. She had only opened it a crack when she heard his door shut down the corridor. Belle knew she had lost her chance at peace that evening, as he wouldn’t want to be disturbed until the morning. She returned to her bed, throwing off her robe, and finally finding her rest, her sleep when it came deep and restful but it did not stay that way for long.

 

She turned fitfully as her mind filled with a handsome, young boy. His face was recognisable but she could not place it. He spoke earnestly, but the words were lost on the breeze, distorted by the haze of the dream. He held up his hand, a small glittering stone pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He tossed it down and before Belle knew what was happening the ground all but fell away, a great gaping hole rushing to take up what had once been the forest floor. It hissed, spitting green smoke and lightning, a gaping maw that seemed to beckon her to the very depths of hell.

 

The next thing she knew she was suspended over the drop, one hand holding onto the boy and the other onto the hilt of a knife, a knife that thrummed with a malevolent power. The boy was crying, screaming for her not to let go, and her heart wrenched, wanting to fall with him, to stay with him. Then the knife gave a violent kick. Sickly sweet power swept through her veins, cloying and grasping as it wrapped itself around her heart. It spoke in vicious, hissing tones, telling her that she would be nothing if she fell, if she followed the boy she would be worthless again. She knew how it felt, she knew how it felt to be worthless, but the feeling was not her own. Never in her life had she felt so low, but she soon learned how it felt to hate herself to the deepest reaches of her soul.

 

The hand holding the boy loosened, he fell, and she knew regret the instant it happened. Her desperation was wretched as she fell after him, only to hit the cold hard ground with a cry of his name.

 

“Baelfire!”

 

Belle came awake at the scream, but it had not come from her own lips. Her master’s voice sliced through her dream and the darkness. She didn’t wait to give thought to her actions, her own confusing nightmare lingering in her mind as she sped from her room, all but crashing into the heavy oak door that led to Rumple’s chamber.

 

Moonlight spilled over his bed, illuminating him, as he lay knotted and whimpering in the sheets, the nightmare still holding him in thrall. Belle rushed to his side, shaking him roughly in the hope of waking him, panic assailing her, as she feared something magical could be causing them both to have nightmares. She was almost certain of it, as her mind seemed to fizz with panic and worry, fuelling her almost violent shaking of her master.

 

Finally, his eyes flew open, his hand taking tight hold of her wrist as though to throw her across the room but his grip loosened as his eyes fell on her.

 

“Belle?” he said, blinking to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep, “Why are you here?”

 

“You were having a nightmare,” she said, “Your cries woke me and I was worried. I had a horrible dream myself; it was about…I forget now.”

 

She frowned, the memory of the dream so clear moments before but it had faded as swiftly as it had come.

 

“We parted on cross words this evening,” said Rumple, looking small and out of place in the great expanse of the bed, the man rather than the sorcerer in the dim moonlight, “I apologise if my foul temper led to your ill rest. As for me, a life as long and dark as mine has never been conducive to good sleep.”

 

Belle managed a small smile, “I think we’ve already established that you’re not nearly as dark as you like people to think you are,” she said, dropping her head as she realised the inappropriateness of being in his bedchamber in such a state of undress, “I’m sorry I rushed in here.”

 

_“Can’t say I’m complaining about a beautiful young woman rushing into my room at this time of night.”_

Belle raised her head at his words, a fiery blush staining her cheeks but before she could say anything, he spoke again.

 

“Nice to have someone charging to my defence for once; usually it’s a mob with flaming torches,” said Rumple, “Now away with you before you catch your death wandering round this drafty old place in naught but your nightdress. I will see you in the morning.”

 

“Of course,” said Belle, her small bob of a curtsey as dignified as she could make it, “Good night Rumplestiltskin.”

 

“Good night, dearie,” he said, as Belle turned to head to the door.

 

_“Sleep well, my dear little friend.”_

Belle turned at the sound of his voice once more but he was already buried beneath the covers and turned away from her. With a small smile, she left the room, glad at least that in the still of the night he had been able to call her friend.

 

xxxx

 

The morning brought a surprise to Belle as she found her master already seated at the long table in the great hall when she emerged from the kitchen, breakfast tray in hand. His head was bent over his correspondence, his long hair obscuring his face from view but she smiled at him all the same.

 

_“Oh that smells amazing.”_

Belle’s smile widened at the compliment, “Well I hope it tastes as good as it smells then,” she said, crossing the room and setting it down in front of him.

 

Rumple looked up at her, a question on his face before he shook his head and offered her a small smile, “Good morning, dearie,” he said, “I trust you slept well in the end.”

 

“Like a baby,” said Belle as she fixed his tea, setting the chipped cup he now favoured in front of him before she headed to the hearth to tend the fire, “Are you home today or are you on another deal?”

 

_“I wonder if you miss me when I’m gone.”_

Belle paused as she stoked the fire, “Of course I miss you when you’re gone,” she said, “Not much conversation to be had with the candlesticks.”

 

She turned, as he didn’t respond, his face set in a confused frown as he regarded her.

 

“I didn’t realise you missed me,” he said, his furrowed brow softening to a small smile, “I anticipate being home for a few days at least. Perhaps we could…”

 

“We could what?” asked Belle, getting to her feet and wiping off her hands on her apron.

 

“Nothing,” said Rumple, with a wave of his hand, “See to your duties, dearie, and I might see fit to let you have the afternoon to your reading.”

 

Belle nodded and headed back towards the kitchens, knowing there were several pans that would not scrub themselves awaiting her.

 

_“A walk in the garden. Couldn’t even ask the dear girl for a walk in the garden. Coward.”_

She turned back in surprise, seeing him bent once more over his letters though his fist was clenched on the tabletop. She wondered if he had meant for her to hear, or if he had thought her already gone from the room before he spoke. Either way her heart fluttered at the thought of spending time outside of the castle walls with him, even if it was only as far as the gardens.

 

“Rumple,” she began, her confidence fleeing her as he looked up and met her eyes, “Let me know if you need any more tea.”

 

“I always do,” said the imp, waving her off with a regal hand.

 

The morning passed quickly as Belle saw to her chores, occasionally bumping into her master as she went about the castle. Every time she did, he seemed to have some little compliment to pay her but always after he had passed by or was out of her eyesight. At first, they were innocent enough, comments on how hard she was working or how smart several artefacts looked after she had tended to them. What startled her though was when the comments became focused on her; questioning why she smelled like roses when there were none in the house, why it seemed brighter in a room the moment she entered it, why had he been lucky enough to meet her in Avonlea.

 

So sweet and kind were his words that she felt a blush stain her cheeks, but she was confused as to why he was so forthcoming with his compliments. There was no way he could think himself out of earshot when he spoke, but whenever she turned to him, it was as though he hadn’t uttered a word. Her heart fluttered as she wondered whether he was doing it on purpose. Baiting her into responding as a way to gauge her feelings for him. Belle squashed the thought as soon as it came; her master was a bit of a trickster but he wasn’t cruel enough to force her to reveal feelings. Her thoughts did turn to her feelings for the sorcerer though, watching him when he was distracted by whatever he was doing.

 

She had never thought his appearance as beastly as he seemed to wish people to see. He was frightening on first viewing but after living with him, serving him, she had seen there was so much more behind the mask. His eyes, wide and oddly coloured, held the same emotions that every person felt. She had seen cruelty in those eyes but she had also seen pride, hurt, sorrow, and affection. The final emotion sometimes all too apparent when he looked at her now. His skin was indeed discoloured but it was flesh all the same, warm beneath the silk of his shirt whenever she touched his arm or brushed her fingers against his. Somehow, she had begun to find him attractive. He had become her friend and now, with his unexpected words ringing in her ears, she realised something had shifted within her own heart and she wondered if love was a concept one could apply to the Dark One.

 

Wisely or not, when her chores were done, rather than head to the library as he had given her permission to do, she began the trek up to his tower. Her confidence kept trying to pull her back down the stairs but she pushed on, determined to succeed even as her heart thundered in her chest. She tapped on the door before she pushed it open, her eyes falling on the sorcerer as he stood before his workbench, steam of several colours forming a cloud above him as he worked.

 

_“Damned nobles making demands. Sick to death of the lot of them. They’ll get what’s coming to them, though. Can’t wait to see them all down at heel, see them crawl. Cease the incessant calling of my name.”_

His words were angry, bitter, and they made Belle pause at the door. She knew he had no love for the nobility; he had been quite vocal about it in her first few days in the castle when he wanted to intimidate her, but she had never heard him quite so vehement.

 

“Is everything alright?” she said, realising she had startled him as he whirled around, displacing the smoke so that it all but enveloped him.

 

“What are you doing sneaking around the castle?” he hissed, _“You scared the life out of me.”_

“Sorry,” said Belle, seeing him finally appear as the smoke cleared.

 

“Was there something you needed, dearie?”

 

Belle felt her resolve shake but she steeled herself, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked towards the window, “It’s a lovely day,” she said, “I wondered if maybe you wanted to take a walk…just in the gardens.”

 

_“Gods, yes.”_

Belle smiled and was about to turn when he spoke again.

 

“Charming as that sounds, dearie, I will have to decline,” said Rumple, “King George has a rather pressing request and it is in my own interest to answer it. I will be leaving in the next hour and will return after nightfall. You may go out to the gardens yourself if you wish, but stay in sight of the castle and within the garden walls.”

 

“But…” started Belle but he held up a long finger to stop her.

 

“Not open to discussion, dearie,” said Rumple, “Now get along with you, this potion won’t make itself.”

 

_“And you’re such a distraction, my beauty.”_

Belle blinked and shook her head, certain that she had not seen his lips move to utter his final words. The endearment alone startled her. He had called her pretty on numerous occasions, though it was only ever to tell her not to worry her pretty little head or not to get her pretty hair ribbons in a knot. Never had he called her a beauty.

 

“Rumple?”

 

“Are you waiting for some magic words, dearie?” asked the imp, “Be gone! Or I’ll turn you to stone and make you a permanent feature of the room.”

 

Belle headed to the door, still confused as to what she had witnessed, her hand reaching for the handle as she heard his voice once more.

 

_“Oh, darling, what I’d give to keep you here with me. I never want to leave you.”_

She wanted to turn and question him but somehow she knew he had not meant for her to hear the words. Belle hurried from the room, not daring to look back for fear she would be unable to hold her tongue.

 

Thoughts plagued Belle well into the evening, any notion of a walk abandoned as she paced her library in want of an answer. She could not fathom if he was toying with her, was deliberate in his almost offhanded affections, or if he was under the influence of some spell. Numerous books littered the table but none had held a suitable answer and she knew better than to poke through Rumple’s things without him being home.

 

When night took hold of the castle, she was bone weary and dragged herself to her bedroom, locking the door tightly behind her in the absence of her master. Sleep came swiftly as did dreams, swirling images as insubstantial as smoke that were forgotten as soon as they appeared. One dream, though came with terror in its wake. Again Belle found herself above a precipice, the boy’s hand in hers, begging her not to let go.

 

_Baelfire._

She knew the dream was different from every other she had, the power of it more potent, more substantial. She could have sworn it was a memory but she knew she had never seen the boy before.

 

_Baelfire._

She looked down at their joined grip but her hand looked wrong. It was larger, longer fingers with blackened nails and discoloured skin. It was a hand she knew. It was a hand that often took hers absently when she stepped down off a stool or if she was standing in the wrong place. It was a hand that held hers when he wanted to remind her of the rules of the castle. It was the hand of her master, gripping on to the boy and begging him not to fall.

 

_Baelfire!_

Belle shot to waking, repeating the boy’s name like a mantra as she hurried from her bed. She spoke it into the darkness as she threw the bolts on her door, the nightmare still playing in her mind even though she knew she was awake. She ran down the corridor and pushed open the door to her master’s room, seeing him knotted in his bed sheets deep in the throes of his nightmare. She could see the images he saw, almost feel his emotions. It broke her heart. The boy she saw was his son and she understood his sadness at last, a parent mourning the loss of his child whether he died in that vortex or not. Another emotion hit her then, a sense of shame sickening her stomach as she felt it as her own.

 

_No one can ever know._

Rumple’s voice echoed in her mind, as his dream self sat in the base of the pit.

 

_Conceal it all, never show the weakness._

She backed away from the bed, his emotions roaring through her head. She couldn’t tell where his feelings ended and hers began. All she knew was that the story that she had witnessed was a secret Rumple had never meant to reveal. His shame and torment were much more than a matter of pride and she could never reveal that she knew. Whatever had given her the power to hear his thoughts, she needed to undo it, fearful that she would discover even more secrets that he had no wish to reveal.

 

On silent feet, she padded from the room, hurrying back to her own chamber. She changed from her nightclothes as swiftly as she could, knowing rest would be far from forthcoming for the rest of the night. Instead, she headed to the library, only pausing to listen at Rumple’s door, his soft snoring letting her know that he was peacefully asleep. She would find her answer and she would break whatever spell held her. If not, she knew she would have to find a way to break their deal and leave the castle. Regardless of how much it would break her heart to do so.

 

xxxx

 

Breakfast had been a torrid affair of burned bacon and cold tea that had taken her three attempts to rectify as she tried to read and cook at the same time. She had taken her master his tray as she always did, but the moment he attempted to speak to her, she had scurried from the room. His thoughts of how beautiful she looked in the sunlight following in her wake.

 

She did the barest minimum of her chores to avoid his temper before she escaped to her library, locking the door behind her even though she knew it would do little to keep him out. She pulled book after book from the shelves, trying to find what she could have been cursed with or touched that allowed her to read his mind. She had not met with another living soul in weeks and no one had come to the castle in nearly as long. She wondered if it could be something residual from her time in the power of Maleficent and her band, but Rumple had so thoroughly checked her for magical traces when he had brought her home that she had felt stripped bare even when standing in all her clothes.

 

She pushed the thought of a spell out of the way, certain that Rumple would have detected anything placed on her. Her next thoughts turned to objects, wondering if there was something in the house that could be channelling his thoughts into her mind. She thought back over the days since she had first begun to hear odd words from him, and her mind fell on the many treasures Rumple had brought back from Agrabah. Focusing her search on artefacts from that area, she pulled out every book she could find on the subject, the great tomes carpeting the floor when the tabletop became too full.

 

Slowly several words started to repeat themselves. Wish. Lamp. Genie. As the words came to her again and again so did a memory, so forgettable in a life now spent attending to dusting and mending and cleaning. A lamp in her hands, her fingers brushing the gold she had revealed as her irksome master ranted and raved about supper. She remembered the throwaway remark she had made, the foolish wish that she could be able to read her master’s mind.

 

The legends she read spoke of a genie being bound to grant three wishes to its master and, as far as she was aware, she had only made one in its presence. If she could find the lamp again she could wish for the power to be removed and maybe even the memory of the event. Return to the blissful ignorance that she had once known.

 

She was a heartbeat from heading to the storage chamber that she had stored the lamp in when she heard the handle of the library door rattle.

 

“Belle?” came the call from beyond, “Are you in there?”

 

She did not have the chance to answer as the door unlocked, Rumple stepping into the room only to pause in the doorway.

 

“What on earth has gone on in here?” he asked.

 

“Reading,” said Belle, slamming the book in her hands as she smiled a little too brightly, “Did you need something?”

 

_“My friend at my side.”_

“Well my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,” said the imp, “And my little maid seems too busy with her books to see to lunch.”

 

_“She looks so pale.”_

Belle tried not to flinch at his words, his thoughts coming to her as clearly as his spoken words.

 

“I’ll get right to it,” she said, avoiding meeting his gaze, “Do you have anything in mind?”

 

_“You, sweetheart, always you. Why do you look like that?”_

“So long as it’s swift I haven’t a care, dearie,” he said, waving his arm as though to dismiss her, “You’re a trifle skittish today.”

 

_“Has something happened? She looks frightened. Have I frightened her? I can’t remember raising my voice. Has something reminded her of home?”_

Belle knotted her hands in her apron as she heard the worry in his thoughts, “Not skittish, not at all,” she answered quickly, hoping her own voice would drown out his thoughts, “Just busy and a little embarrassed I lost track of time. I’ll be as quick as I can. Do you want lunch in the hall or in the tower? I promise to tidy the library as soon as I’m done.”

 

“Belle?” barked Rumple, grabbing her arm as she made to run passed him, his touch gentling when she came to a halt, “What the devil’s the matter? You’re not yourself.”

 

“I’m perfectly fine,” she snapped, still refusing to meet his gaze.

 

“Standing with your eyes bent on the carpet and looking pale as death?” said Rumple, “I know you, dearie, and this isn’t like you.”

 

_“Be gentle with her for goodness sake. Frightening her won’t get you anywhere. Be gentle.”_

Belle shivered as his grip loosened on her arm, sliding down to take hold of her hand, “I’m fine,” she repeated.

 

_“Please don’t let me be losing her. I can’t…”_

“Has something happened, Belle?” said Rumple, “Have I been too waspish for your liking recently?”

 

Belle met his gaze, seeing the worry in his eyes that would have been apparent even if she couldn’t read his thoughts, “I’m alright, truly,” she said, her hand coming unbidden to his weathered cheek and feeling the surge of affection in his mind at the gesture, “I have a few things on my mind but it’s nothing you’ve done.”

 

_“How can you bear to touch such a monster? I’m not worthy…”_

Tears jumped to her eyes as she heard the pain in his mind and she nearly confessed everything about her mistake, but she knew the knowledge that she was aware of his shame would hurt him.

 

“If you’re certain,” said the imp, stepping away from her and waving a hand so the books leapt back into their proper places on the shelves, “Away with you, then. Lunch in the hall when you’re ready.”

 

_“Go, sweetheart, before I forget myself and scare you away forever.”_

Belle fled the library as quickly as she could without making it look as though she was doing so. She wondered what his last unspoken words had meant but deep in her heart she knew, his emotions as clear as his thoughts and she had felt the pull of them. Her heart hammered in her chest as she longed for the kiss his thoughts had promised.

 

Lunch was hastily prepared and carried to the hall in as little time as she could manage. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realised Rumple had yet to arrive, unsure if she could take hearing anymore of his thoughts when her own seemed bent on betraying her. She set the tray down before his usual place, heading back to the kitchen and the rarely used servant’s stairs to the upper floors in the effort to avoid him.

 

Before long she was outside the storage room she had left the lamp in, relieved that Rumple hadn’t dragged home anything new to store. The boxes were easy for her to reach. She had pulled out the contents of two of them before she located the battered, greasy lamp. Concealing it in the folds of her apron, she hurried to her room, throwing the locks on the door. Rumple had promised long ago that he would never invade her privacy there if the door was locked against him.

 

She set the lamp on her dresser before she touched a finger to the exposed gold, running it back and forth.

 

“Show yourself to me,” she commanded.

 

At first, nothing happened and she sighed in defeat. Then great billow of smoke spilled from the spout, swirling around the room before it came to hover in a cloud before her. She had expected some sort of corporeal form but instead the only thing that hinted at life were the large green eyes that opened within the black cloud, the colour breathtaking but cruel as they regarded her.

 

“Are you a genie?” she said, fisting her hands in her skirt to still their shaking.

 

“Na’am,” answered the entity, its eyes closing slowly before opening again.

 

Belle frowned, “Is that your word for yes? If it is, say it again, if not stay silent.”

 

“Na’am,” it said once more.

 

“And your word for no?” she asked, the clever eyes narrowing on her as she spoke.

 

“Laa,” said the genie.

 

She nodded, refusing to be intimidated even as she felt its gaze all but penetrate her soul.

 

“Did you grant my wish to hear Rumple’s thoughts?”

 

“Na’am.”

 

“Well then, I want to make another wish,” she said, “I wish that I can’t hear Rumple’s thoughts anymore.”

 

“Laa.”

 

Belle paled, “No? Why no?” she said, “Please. I thought you were required to grant the wishes of those who touched the lamp.”

 

“Laa.”

 

“But I can’t go on like this. His thoughts are his own and I shouldn’t be able to hear them. It’s not fair to either of us. Please?” she begged.

 

“Laa.”

 

“Is that all you can say?” she cried, “Why won’t you grant my wish? You weren’t so difficult when I made the first wish, which wasn’t even a real wish because I didn’t really want it to happen.”

 

“Didn’t you?”

 

Belle’s eyes widened as the cloud dispersed, leaving the master of the Dark Castle in its place, “Rumple?” she said, tears leaping to her eyes, “What? Was this some sort of trick? Were you toying with me?”

 

The imp grinned cruelly but his voice was not the one she knew. This tone was darker and heavily accented. Like the Agrabahn merchants that had frequented Avonlea.

 

“I am not Rumplestiltskin,” it said, “I merely chose this form because it is the forefront of your mind. I could choose another if you prefer.”

 

Rumple’s image disappeared to be replaced by her father’s figure and then by a nursemaid she had once had in her childhood. The images flickered before her, moving through all the people who had ever had significance in her life until she had to turn away.

 

“Stop, please!” she cried, “I don’t want to talk to you in an image of someone I know so please either take your own form or become the cloud again.”

 

There was a rush of air as the genie took its cloud form once more, green eyes filled with mirth at her distress. Belle scowled at it, hating that it toyed with her so easily when she thought she would find herself its mistress.

 

“Why won’t you grant my wish?” she asked, hoping the creature would answer her at last.

 

“Because it does not amuse me.”

 

“And watching me suffer while having to hear Rumple’s thoughts does?” said Belle, “Please, I’m begging you, take this wish away and I will never ask for anything else. He’s my friend and I hate that I’m hearing things I shouldn’t. Please take it away.”

 

“Laa.”

 

“Not that again. Please just take it off me,” begged Belle, “If you don’t I…I’ll have to leave and I don’t want to leave, not ever. I can’t lose my friend. I can’t lose him.”

 

The cloud was silent as it regarded her and Belle felt her heart sink as she realised that it did not intend to set her free of her foolish wish. She bit back the tears as she took up the lamp and held it towards the cloud.

 

“Unless you intend to say ‘laa’ again, you might as well go,” she said, relieved when the creature disappeared into the lamp once more.

 

She opened a draw on the dresser and stuffed the lamp inside, wanting it far from view as she gave into her upset; hot, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She knew she could not go on always hearing Rumple’s most private thoughts, illuminating as some of them had been, but the alternatives filled her with dread. Either choice she made, she would hurt him. If she told him what she had seen in his mind, the deep abiding shame that plagued him and burned him soul deep with a pain he could never and would never share, it would destroy him. If she left the castle, left him to escape the consequences of her wish, then she knew the pain would be just as deep for her and for him. Perhaps one day he would forget her.

 

She wasn’t sure when she moved but she was soon laid out on the bed, her face pressed into her pillow as she cried. She had no memory of falling asleep but she woke to the feeling of a gentle hand on her shoulder as darkness crept over the window ledge.

 

“Belle, dearie, wake up?”

 

_“Please, sweetheart, I’m so worried. Wake up.”_

Belle’s eyes finally focused on the imp knelt beside her bed, his face a picture of concern that he didn’t even try to mask, “Rum…Rumple?” she said, rubbing her eyes as she sat up, “What…?”

 

“Forgive me for intruding,” he said, “But when you wouldn’t answer the door I was worried. I let myself in.”

 

_“She looks so pale.”_

“How long have I been asleep?” said Belle, trying to block out the sound of his thoughts.

 

“You disappeared right after lunch and it’s well passed twilight,” said Rumple, his fingers gently moving several strands of hair back from her face, “Belle, what’s wrong, dearie? Whatever it is I will not get angry, I promise you.”

 

_“Just tell me. It’s like death seeing you this way and I can’t bear it a moment longer.”_

“I…” began Belle but she dropped her gaze to the coverlet once more, “I can’t…I…Rumple I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

_“Whatever has hurt you, I will put an end to it so swiftly it will not even know the cause of its demise.”_

“Belle,” he said, his tone gentler than the one now in his mind as he caught her face in his hands, forcing her gaze to his, “Please, my love, tell me what’s wrong? I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

 

The endearment startled her, heard from his lips rather than his mind and she felt every bit of her resolve crumble to dust. She all but knocked him to the floor as she left the bed for the sanctuary of his arms, holding on to him with all the strength she possessed. His arms came about her, instinct clearly letting him know that she needed him as he became an anchor in the storm but while he remained silent, his mind did not.

 

_“Sweet girl, did I do this to you? Has your captivity here been so awful that you must taken comfort in the arms of a beast? Will you flee now? Please don’t let this be the only embrace I’ll ever know from you. Belle, please don’t leave me. Please don’t tell me you want to leave me.”_

“Never,” she answered, forgetting herself, “I will never, ever leave you, Rumple, I swear it. I can’t leave you.”

 

She realised her error as she felt him tense in her arms before he leaned back to meet her gaze, confusion etched into the lines of his face.

 

“How..?” he asked, “You heard me?”

 

Belle nodded, tears falling from her eyes, “I can hear what you’re thinking,” she said, “I…”

 

_“Fuck!”_

“Apologies,” said Rumple, the green-gold skin darkening over his cheeks, “Not the language I would choose to use in front of a lady.”

 

Belle couldn’t help the choked giggle that escaped her, “Maybe you should just say what you’re thinking,” she said, “I won’t be missish, I promise.”

 

“Easier said than done,” said Rumple.

 

_“And some of my thoughts about you are less than wholesome sweetheart.”_

Belle giggled as he swore openly this time, glad at least that some humour had made its way into their situation even as she still feared his reaction.

 

“How long has this been happening and why didn’t you tell me?” said Rumple, his arms loosening as though to release her. Belle refused to relinquish her hold.

 

“A few days,” she said, “I made a wish but I didn’t know I had and then I didn’t realise it for a while. I thought you were just being a bit more open with me. I only realised when…”

 

“When what?” said Rumple, with a frown, “What I’d give to be able to read your mind now, dearie.”

 

Belle dropped her head before she uttered the one name she knew would betray everything, “Baelfire.”

 

“Wh…what?” the mage stuttered above her, “What did you just say?”

 

“I know about your son, I know about Baelfire,” said Belle, feeling the pain as it all but screamed through his mind, “You dream about him, about when you let him go and I saw. I’m sorry Rumple. It’s why I didn’t tell you. I can feel your emotions and I know you didn’t want anyone to ever know but I understand why you did it. That power was so strong and you…”

 

“Stop!” cried Rumple, his hands gentle but determined as they pushed her back, leaving her on the rug beside her bed as he got to his feet.

 

“I’m so sorry,” said Belle, “Before I knew what I was seeing, I’d already seen it and I couldn’t stop it. Can you ever forgive me? I never meant to invade your privacy.”

 

_“Why didn’t you run? When you saw what a monster I truly was, why didn’t you run you silly girl?”_

Belle got to her feet, “I’m not a silly girl,” she snapped though it was pain rather than anger in her words, “And I had no cause to run.”

 

“Ugh! Get out of my mind!” cried the imp.

 

“I can’t,” said Belle, “I wish I could but I can’t.”

 

“You should have told me,” he snapped, “I could have stopped it and you wouldn’t have had to see…that.”

 

_“My greatest shame, I didn’t want you to know. I never wanted you to know I’m a failure and a coward.”_

“You’re not a coward,” said Belle as she too got to her feet, her voice rising to a shout as she continued, “This is why I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bear this self-loathing and I knew you would close yourself off from me when you should tell me. Why can’t you trust me to comfort you and support you? All the things I’ve heard from your mind you could have told me. I’ve heard them all and I haven’t run.”

 

“Then you’re a fool,” said Rumple.

 

“No, you’re the fool!” said Belle coming toe-to-toe with him and not backing down in sight of his dark scowl, “Why hold me at arms length when if you let me in I could love you?”

 

“It’s not love when it is born of pity,” snapped the mage.

 

_“No one can ever love me!”_

Belle took his face in her hands, trying not to flinch as his strong grip came to her wrists in an attempt to pull her away, “I can love you,” she said vehemently, “I do love you. You just need to let yourself believe me.”

 

_“Please let those words be true because I…”_

“Say it,” demanded Belle, her heart hammering as she felt the emotion and knew the sentiment his mind at least would confess, “Let me hear it from your lips, not your mind. Tell me. My words are true Rumple. I love you.”

 

Rumple rested her forehead against hers, their breaths mingling and Belle was certain he would be able to hear her heart hammering in her chest. Emotion washed over her but she could feel his fear as well.

 

_“Say it. Say it. Say it.”_

She allowed herself a small smile at the mantra in his mind, her hands leaving his cheeks in favour of stroking his wild hair. She gave him time, feeling the emotion even as he struggled to find the words until finally he broke the silence, his words soft and free of the impish pitch he used to intimidate and scare. The voice was that of the man and she loved him even more for the sound of it.

 

“I love you,” he said softly, “Though I’m unworthy to profess it.”

 

“Enough of that,” said Belle, “I won’t have you saying such things about the man I intend to spend my life with.”

 

“Are you sure, Belle?” he said.

 

_“Forever is a long time to be chained to someone like me.”_

Belle tugged on his hair as she heard his thoughts, seeing the playful scowl that came to his face as he realised she had heard him once more.

 

“This newfound ability of yours is proving a problem,” said Rumple, “I’m not used to censoring my own thoughts.”

 

“Are you in the habit of thinking of things that require censorship?” asked Belle, watching a muscle twitch in his cheek as he clearly struggled not to bring such things to mind.

 

She blushed crimson though as a thought struggled past his resolve and she saw the images he had fought to hide. She saw the fractured image of herself spread on the bed behind her, dress and petticoats discarded and clad only in her flimsy shift. As swiftly as it came it was cut off and Rumple wrested himself from her arms in an effort to distance his thoughts.

 

“Oh my,” she breathed, knowing the image she had seen was no doubt tamer than he could truly have shown her.

 

She frowned when she saw the turmoil on his face at having let her see that much, even before she heard his thoughts once more.

 

_“Stupid! Now what will she think.”_

“I hope I live up to expectations,” said Belle gently, returning to his side, “Don’t be upset.”

 

“I shouldn’t think such things,” he said brokenly, “You’re a maiden.”

 

“Not forever, I hope,” said Belle, smiling at the fire that came to his eyes at her words, “Now how about I tell you how all this happened and we can make it right. Your thoughts should be your own, even the ones I enjoy, but I can’t rectify this on my own.”

 

Rumple looked relieved at her words, slumping down in a chair beside her fireplace, “I think that would be best,” he said as Belle went to her dresser and retrieved the lamp.

 

“It started the night after you returned from Agrabah,” she said, “I was sorting through the artefacts for storage and was cleaning this when you came in, demanding supper despite the fact you had earlier said you didn’t want any.”

 

Rumple’s eyes widened as he took in the lamp, “Don’t tell me,” he said, “You had this in your hands when you wished that you could read the mind of your irksome master.”

 

Belle nodded, “I didn’t even realise what it was or that my wish had been granted,” she said, “I never seemed to be looking at you when I heard your thoughts, so I thought they were your words. I only realised when I was awake and you were asleep during your dream about Baelfire. That’s why I was in the library all afternoon; I was trying to find the answer. I discovered it was a genie but when I summoned it again, it refused to change my wish because it found it amusing that I could read your thoughts.”

 

Rumple frowned, holding his hand out for the lamp, “Then what you found was not a basic genie,” he said.

 

_“You could have been hurt calling on him without me.”_

“But I wasn’t hurt, so stop worrying,” said Belle, placing the relic in his hands, “If it’s not a genie, what is it?”

 

“A Djinn,” said Rumple, a wave of his hand sending the lamp away from them, “This may be problematic and it will take me some time. You are so lucky it chose to be mischievous rather than malevolent.”

 

“But what is it?” said Belle, tucking her skirts beneath her knees as she settled at his feet, “I found nothing in the books about a Djinn.”

 

“That’s because those books are locked in my tower,” said Rumple, “It is a higher form than a genie and not bound by the same rules unless you know its name. I’ll need to discover this one’s to get him to release you. You will have to listen to my internal ramblings for a while longer.”

 

Belle nodded, “At least we both know now,” she said before she bit her bottom lip in apprehension, “Rumple, do you only get one wish or are there more?”

 

“The wishes are infinite if you hold a being such as a Djinn in thrall,” he said, “But you are holding the creature against its will if you use it as such.”

 

“Oh,” said Belle, “I don’t want to hurt it but I was wondering if…your son, he’s lost and maybe the Djinn could send you to him.”

 

“Even a Djinn does not have that kind of power, my dear,” said Rumple, “No it will be my magic that gets me to Bae and please don’t ask more questions. I don’t want to bring it to mind now but I will tell you one day.”

 

“I never want to know more than you’re willing to tell,” said Belle, her eyes focused on the carpet, “I feel like I’ve forced your hand to reveal more than you wished to already.”

 

“Maybe it was the push I have needed,” said Rumple.

 

_“I’ve been desperate to kiss you for months.”_

Belle looked up from beneath her lashes at him, a blush staining her cheeks, “You have?” she asked, unable to stop the giggle that bubbled from her lips as she saw him blush beneath the cursed hue of his skin, “You only had to ask.”

 

“It’s hardly appropriate to ask such a thing from a young maiden in my care,” said Rumple, “Perhaps if I were to amend our deal? Would you stay Belle, if I released you from your promise? I promise your home wouldn’t be at risk. If you stayed…”

 

_“Please stay.”_

Belle raised herself up on her knees, her hands resting on the arms of his chair as she leaned towards him, “You could force me from this castle with all the magical might you possess, Rumplestiltskin, and I would fight you until you let me stay,” she said, “I don’t want to ever leave you. I haven’t been bound here by the terms of our deal for a very long time, so if it would make you feel better to toss them out the window then please do so and then kiss me.”

 

“Belle…”

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” cried Belle, her hands leaving the chair to take gentle hold of his face.

 

Without giving him a chance to speak again she drew his lips down to hers, meeting them with a firm but inexperienced pressure. She felt him stiffen in surprise before his lips moulded to hers, coaxing her where she was unsure. Belle revelled in the long anticipated touch. She felt him shiver and she smiled against his lips, but the voice she heard terrified her as it all but screamed in her ear.

 

_“False wretch! She’s doing this to steal your power. Fight her back Spinner, fight her back!”_

Belle tumbled back from his arms at the dark, feral voice that had spoken. She looked up to see his face looking more like a man’s than she had ever seen it but it faded back to his cursed mask as he seemed to struggle against some invisible bond.

 

“Rumple, what’s wrong?” she cried in alarm, hurrying to her feet but he held a hand out to stop her.

 

“Keep back!” he commanded, “I can’t…Belle stay back please.”

 

“I don’t understand what’s happening to you?” she said, panic in her voice as he all but threw himself out of the chair and as far across the room as he could go.

 

“True love’s kiss can break any curse,” he hissed through clenched teeth, pain in every syllable, “Even mine. Just stay back please. I’ll be alright in a moment.”

 

“True love?” said Belle, a small smile gracing her lips even as his strained appearance worried her, but that voice the echoed in her mind chased it from her face.

 

_“The thing you love the most Spinner. That’s the requirement. You love her. Take her heart and use it. Rip it out and get to the boy.”_

“Never,” growled Rumple, pulling himself away from the wall he had pressed himself against, “Never will I take her heart, not even for Bae. I will not go to him that way.”

 

_“Coward.”_

“I’m not a coward,” cried the mage, “I won’t let you win, not this time.”

 

Regardless of his warning, Belle could not keep away, rushing to his side and taking hold of his shoulders as he slumped to the floor. She saw the fear on his face as he realised how close she’d come, clearly forcing back whatever thought to threaten her from within him. She couldn’t help but wince as his hand came to her chest, the dark voice’s words haunting her mind, but the pressure was light and unthreatening as he touched her. Golden light emanated from his hand and she felt it dive deep within her body, wrapping around the frantically beating organ that was her heart and bathing it with a warmth she had never felt before.

 

Rumple was breathless as the light dissipated, his hand leaving her chest to trail along her arm until he could take her hand. He all but bent double over their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of hers, but it was the feel of his tears falling there that startled Belle.

 

“Rumple, what’s wrong?” she said when he wouldn’t raise his head, “Darling?”

 

“I’ve charmed your heart,” he said against her skin, “The spell is irreversible, even by me. Your heart can never be removed and I can never be tempted, but I was. Belle, I could have taken your heart and used your life to propel me to Baelfire…”

 

“But you didn’t,” said Belle, “You didn’t, Rumple, even though you had the power to. Please look at me.”

 

_“I can’t.”_

“You can, darling, please,” said Belle, her free hand catching beneath his chin and lifting his face to hers, “It’s alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise a kiss would cause so much trouble.”

 

She saw the small smile come to Rumple’s face at her words, relief flooding her that he was not intent on wallowing in self-pity as he recovered himself fully.

 

“I hadn’t expected such a thing to ever happen to me,” he said, pressing her hand to his chest, “But as usual you have surprised me.”

 

Belle’s answering smile fell as cold realisation came to her, “But if it can break your curse then we can’t ever kiss again?” she said, her mouth forming a small moue of disappointment.

 

“You’re forgetting one thing, my dear,” said Rumple, one black tipped finger tracing the pout of her lips, “I’m very clever and so are you. If there are any two people in this world who can solve our quandary, then it’s us, however long it takes. I think we’d be best placed to sort our other issue first though. Much as I wish to have very few secrets as possible from you, my thoughts need to remain my own.”

 

Belle nodded, “You’re quite right,” she said, “What do you suggest we do?”

 

Rumple looked out at the darkening night and then back to her, “If you are not too tired we can make a start in my tower,” he said, “I have a theory regarding the power of this Djinn.”

 

“Care to share it?”

 

“Names have power, dearie,” he said, gathering her close, “And we’re going to find his.”

 

A familiar smoke enveloped them, propelling them to the tower and the answers they sought. Belle was hopeful that the problem would not take too long when they had others yet to solve.

 

xxxx

 

_“Fucking book! I know the damned theory! I need the blasted name!”_

“Rumple, dear, you’re shouting again,” said Belle, rubbing at her throbbing temples, “I know you’re infuriated but giving me a headache really isn’t going to help.”

 

If she had been asked prior to the debacle they found themselves in, she would have said being able to read her master’s thoughts would have been amusing and illuminating. The truth of the matter was, despite how pleasing it was when he paid her an unconscious compliment, the ranting and colourful language left her with a shocking headache when in such prolonged and close proximity to him.

 

“I’m sorry Belle,” he said, “This is just infuriating.”

 

“Is there any other way you could learn this Djinn’s name?” said Belle, “Someone in Agrabah?”

 

Rumple shook his head, “One sorcerer, maybe, but he disappeared long ago. A Djinn would trust few with the power of its name. There are rumours of some taking human lovers and letting them know their names but…”

 

“Lovers?” said Belle, heading to the door, “I need to go to my room.”

 

“Why?” said Rumple following her.

 

_“Why are we rushing to her bedroom the second I mention lovers?”_

“Not getting jealous, are you?” said Belle, the tone in his mind unmistakeable.

 

Rumple growled even as he hurried to keep pace with her, “Sooner we get this ability of yours reversed…”

 

“The better, I know,” said Belle, as he caught up with her, his arm coming around her as he propelled them to her room with his magic.

 

Belle gave up all hope for dignity in her haste as she threw up the valance and scrambled underneath the bed.

 

“Got it,” she said as she emerged clutching a small box, setting it on the rug before she hitched up her skirts, her legs bare beneath save for a slim garter around her thigh.

 

“Belle!” cried Rumple, swiftly turning his back.

 

_“Gods, woman, you are temptation itself.”_

Belle blushed as she liberated a small key from the pocket in the garter, opening the box as Rumple warily turned back, relief washing over his face at the sight of her legs covered once more. Belle opened the box, the rose in her cheeks heightening as she pulled a black, nameless book from within.

 

“What exactly do you have there?” said Rumple as she held it out to him.

 

He took the book and opened it at random, slamming it shut as soon as he saw the image on the page before he raised his gaze to the woman still sat on the floor, “Where the devil did you get something like this?” he said, his tone far rougher than Belle had ever heard it, “It’s…”

 

“It’s a story book,” said Belle.

 

_“One hardly fit for a maiden.”_

Belle giggled, “Have I embarrassed you?” she asked, before she took pity on him, “A maid who worked at the castle in Avonlea gave it to me when my betrothal to Gaston was announced. She felt the need to prepare me for my wedding night.”

 

“You’d have been better placed listening to your nursemaid than reading this, dearie,” said Rumple, “What purpose has this to our search or are you merely looking to tempt me?”

 

“Turn to page one hundred,” said Belle, “There’s a story about a Djinn who takes a mortal lover and she has to name it to prove her love. She tries several until she reveals one tattooed on her body that is its true name. The names might be of use.”

 

“It’s worth a try,” said Rumple, dropping his eyes to the book once more and flicking through the passages until he found the names.

 

He moved to her dresser, setting the book before him as he sat down and conjured a quill and parchment to hand. Belle moved to his side, setting her hands on his shoulders as she watched him write.

 

“Does it upset you that I have the book?” she said, a slight tremor to her voice, “I have only ever read it, I promise.”

 

Rumple huffed out a small laugh as he closed the text, one hand coming up to cover hers, “Not at all,” he said, “Though the thought of you reading such…we’d best summon this Djinn of yours before the control I currently exercise over my own thoughts waivers. Here are the names. I’ll bring back the lamp but you will need to command him to rescind the wish.”

 

Belle took the list before she stepped back to let him get to his feet. The lamp reappeared with a wave of his hand, battered and tarnished but Belle understood better the power held within. She saw Rumple regarding it with a strange solemnity, his words about holding the Djinn captive by its name replaying in her mind.

 

“Will it hurt the Djinn when I use its name?” she asked.

 

“If it wants to resist you, then yes.”

 

“So just one wish then,” said Belle, with a sigh, “Oh well…”

 

Rumple moved his regard from the relic to his maid, “And what else would my Belle wish for?”

 

“A kiss,” she said sadly, “Without the risk of breaking your curse but I won’t harm this poor thing further for my own gains.”

 

_“Darling girl, I don’t deserve to hold a heart as pure as yours.”_

“Yet you do,” said Belle to his thoughts as easily as she would his words before she took the lamp from his hand, touching her finger to the revealed gold, “Please come out.”

 

Smoke filled the room once more and Belle was glad for Rumple’s strong arm as it came about her waist, holding her close in the maelstrom the Djinn created around them. It chose to take corporeal form straight away and Belle was faced once more with Rumple’s image before her even as she felt him beside her.

 

“Hello again,” said Belle, “Look I know my wish was in error and all I want is not to hear Rumple’s thoughts any more. Just please take this off me and that’s it, no more wishes. I promise.”

 

“Laa.”

 

Belle groaned, “Then I’m very sorry that I have to do this,” she said, “I don’t want to control you.”

 

The Djinn recoiled as Belle lifted the parchment, losing the image it had taken on and turning once more to smoke with the wild green eyes that seemed to burn into her.

 

“Abu Mihriz Al-Ahmar, I command you to grant my wish,” said Belle.

 

“Laa.”

 

“Try again,” said Rumple at her back, his magic all but crackling around them, as the Djinn seemed to grow in malevolence, the dark voice far more sinister than Belle had heard before.

 

“Barqan Abu al-‘Adja’yb, I command you to grant my wish.”

 

“Laa.”

 

The room began to shudder around them as a wind whipped through the room, trying to tear the paper from Belle’s hand. Rumple’s hand covered hers, tightening the grip on the parchment.

 

“Shamhurish,” said Belle, “I command you to grant my wish.”

 

“Na’am.”

 

The silence that followed had Belle fearing she had been struck deaf, the pressure of it almost crushing. She startled therefore as she heard the relieved exhale next to her ear before Rumple spoke.

 

“Sweetheart, I think you did it,” he said, “Can you tell what I’m thinking?”

 

Belle shook her head as no sound came to her, “Not a thing,” she said with a relieved smile before her face fell, “The poor thing.”

 

She turned her attention to the now silent Djinn, the eyes downcast and its words silenced.

 

“I’m so sorry,” said Belle, her lip trembling as she fought her tears, “I didn’t want to have to do that. I won’t ask for anything else. Rumple can we free him? He shouldn’t be contained like this.”

 

“There may be a way,” said Rumple, “But let me. I don’t want you to bear it again.”

 

Belle placed the lamp in his outstretched hand, reluctantly leaving his arms as he moved towards the Djinn.

 

“Shamhurish,” said the sorcerer, “You’re free to speak and to move so long as you leave Belle be. You’re tethered to this lamp and it contains you, I know, but its power is different to what binds me. Can it be broken? If so tell me and if it is in my power to release you, I will.”

 

“Rumplestiltskin,” spoke the Djinn, its appearance once more changing and Belle saw the mage stiffen, as the image it chose was that of Baelfire, “You would offer me my freedom?”

 

“Why this image?” said Rumple, “You torment me when I seek to aid you.”

 

“Perhaps this is your true wish,” said the Djinn.

 

“More than anything,” said Rumple, “But I also know it is one even you cannot grant, and I won’t make a wish you can twist to create mischief as you did with Belle.”

 

“Do you not approve of the outcome?”

 

“This is not about what has passed between Belle and me,” said Rumple, “If you wish for your freedom, tell me how it may be achieved or return to your lamp and my vault where you will spend eternity. You aren’t lending yourself to the mercy I would show you for Belle’s sake.”

 

The Djinn regarded the sorcerer through his son’s eyes, the gaze calculating as though testing the very air for subterfuge, “I seek another of my kind,” he said at last, “And I am tethered to the lamp and forced to pass through mortal hands until he is found. He is a lesser of our kind and disappeared from our sight. My master bound me to the lamp until I found him in the mortal realm.”

 

Rumple smiled, holding out the lamp to the Djinn, “I know of one who may be the soul you seek,” he said, “The Queen has a magic mirror but the power is contained, not free. This could be your lost brethren. I wish you to seek him out. If I’m right, you will find your freedom. If I am wrong, then I will send you from this castle into the hands of another until seek your goal.”

 

“Then I pray you are right, sorcerer,” said the Djinn, fading to smoke once more before it disappeared from the room.

 

“Is that it then?” said Belle after a moment’s silence, “It’s all over.”

 

“For us,” said Rumple, “It would seem so, though I will help our Djinn friend to move on in his quest if he does not find who he seeks. Belle you must swear never to reveal his name to any living soul. He would be enslaved and it… it a terrifying prospect for any immortal being.”

 

“I promise,” said Belle seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, “Rumple?”

 

He shook his head, “A story not for now,” he said, “It’s gone midnight and it’s not a fitting bedtime story. I will tell you though, dearest, one day. You should rest.”

 

“But I’m not tired,” said Belle around a sudden yawn.

 

“And I am a rival for fairest in the land,” said Rumple, a snap of his fingers changing her into her long nightgown, “To bed, little dearie. I will stay close tonight, just in case our friend returns with mischief in mind.”

 

Belle knew better than to argue with him, glad when he dragged the dresser chair over to her bed as she climbed into it, “Will you really stay close while I sleep?”

 

“All night, I swear,” said Rumple, “Now sleep; come morning we have much to discuss.”

 

Belle closed her eyes, the pull of sleep on her almost immediately and she wondered if her sorcerer had anything to do with the ease with which her rest came. The thought was short lived as she finally succumbed, her dreams once more peaceful as she gave herself up to them.

 

The eerie glow of dawn permeated the room as Belle woke from her slumber, her attention caught by the man asleep beside her. Rumple’s head was pillowed on his arms as he leaned against her bed, his breathing deep and even. She smiled tiredly, stroking his soft hair as she let her eyes fall shut once more, but her touch had woken the sorcerer beside her.

 

“How long have I been asleep?” he said.

 

“I don’t know,” said Belle, “I’ve just woken myself. You can’t be comfortable like that.”

 

“I’ve known worse,” said Rumple, even as his back popped audibly as he stretched, “Go back to sleep, dearie.”

 

Belle waited until he had returned his attention to her fully before she scooted back on the mattress, holding the covers open to him, “Join me?” she asked, “You can’t sleep like that anymore.”

 

“I don’t need to sleep anymore,” said Rumple getting to his feet, “But you…”

 

“Rumple, please,” said Belle reaching out and grabbing his hand, “Please don’t pull away from me now. We’ve come so far and I…I hate that I can’t hear what you’re thinking anymore. I know I didn’t want the power but now… now I’m scared I’ll lose you because you can hide yourself away from me again.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be better, sweetheart?” he said sadly, his hand closing over their joined ones, “Belle, I can’t even kiss you and I can’t promise I will ever find a way to change that. Our love would be chaste and cold and dark. It would steal your life and your joy. Better you forget me and find someone who can love you entirely, with everything they have.”

 

Belle kept hold of his hand, using it to lever herself from the bed until she was stood toe-to-toe with him, her lack of shoes for once giving him an advantage in height, “I could never forget you and I can never stop loving you. I want this,” she said, her fingers touching softly to his lips, “But if I can’t have that desire, I can still be in your arms. I can still tell you I love you everyday, share your hopes, your dreams, and your trials. Rumple, please, we’ve come so far. Let’s not waste the chance we’ve been given.”

 

Rumple sighed, but Belle knew he had given up any thought of a fight as he bent to rest his forehead to hers, “I should send you away and protect you from myself but I can’t,” he said, “I love you, whatever trials that entails. I love you and I will show you how much, in every way I can, from now until you send me from your sight.”

 

“Forever then,” said Belle before a rattle from her dresser pulled their attention from one another.

 

The lamp stuttered and danced against the wooden tabletop before it leapt from the surface entirely, flying through the air over their heads and towards the window. They turned in time to see the window fly open, a figure appearing in the frame. The man smiled, his eyes the only familiar feature as he looked down at them. The loose fitting, Agrabahn clothes he wore fluttered in the breeze and both Rumple and Belle knew they were looking upon the true features of the Djinn.

 

“Rumplestiltskin. My Lady Belle,” he said, the bow he offered doing nothing to topple him from his precarious position on the ledge, “You have done me a great service. My brother was held in the queen’s thrall but he is now free and returned to his own kind. I thank you for leading me to him, and giving me my freedom.”

 

“You are quite welcome,” said Rumple, “I’m glad our paths crossed.”

 

“You seem to have a reward from the experience,” said the Djinn with a smile, “I wish you and your lady joy, but perhaps I might help with one issue.”

 

He waved a hand towards them, the same smoke that accompanied his manifestations engulfing them for a moment before it dispersed.

 

“Qibla hub sadiqa.”

 

By the time they turned their attention back to where the Djinn had stood, the window stood empty and closed once more.

 

Belle smiled, “I’m glad we could help him,” she said, “But what did he help us with? I didn’t understand what he said.”

 

Rumple tucked a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face to his, “True love’s kiss,” he said, “My darling Belle.”

 

She didn’t get a chance to question him further as he pressed his lips to hers, the touch brief but powerful before he pulled back, the cursed hue of his skin unchanged and a smile on his lips.

 

“You mean he…” began Belle, “We can kiss.”

 

“As often as my lady desires,” said Rumple, “I believe the terms were forever.”

 

Belle said nothing as she slipped into his arms, his lips meeting hers as dawn broke over the window ledge and the lamp that rested there. Now devoid of its captive, the empty vessel was the only evidence of all that had happened for them.

 

“Rumple,” she murmured as he released her lips in favour of peppering kisses to her exposed throat, “There is one thing.”

 

“Name it, my love,” said Rumple as he worried the pulse point on her neck.

 

“My book,” said Belle, “The one that scandalised you so. There are one or two passages that would prove a wonderful way to spend the morning.”

 

“Kama tatamana,” said Rumple, his lips brushing hers once more, “As you wish, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this little fic. I need to thank my lovely friend Grace for all the Arabic translations xx


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